Security Sandwich
by The Marauders3
Summary: Action in the security room between Clarisse and a security guard or two


**Title:** Security Sandwich  
**By: **dragoneye   
**Rating:** K , bordering on T  
**Summary:** Well, some stuff happens… in the security room… between Clarisse and a security guy… or two…

**Dedicated To:** Mishka—you asked for it:D

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Princess Diaries.

**Disclaimer to the Readers: **Take it seriously or not…

O

Her attraction to the younger man was alarming.

Perhaps it was because he was new and exciting. Maybe it was his obvious attraction to her. Or maybe she was just lonely. Any way she tried to explain it, her attraction was alarming.

She should not be attracted too him. He was too young. Too young, too inexperienced, too naïve. Anyways, she was a married woman, for heaven's sakes—married! Very happily, too! So why was she fantasizing about this new man?

She tried to make herself stop. She tried to tell herself that there was no point in liking him, that he deserved someone younger. She tried to ignore him, try not to fantasize about him too much. Nothing worked.

She sighed. With her husband gone, her bed felt terribly big and empty, and she needed a warm body to fill the space. It was ridiculous to think that after only 9 months of marriage, she couldn't sleep on her own…

Clarisse walked down the stairs from her suite to the security room. The man she wanted would be in there right now, watching the monitors while working the night shift. She was excited.

But then doubts crossed her mind. What would she say when she entered the room? Was he still attracted to her? What did she want from him? Oh, god, why was she doing this?

Before she could stop herself, she was at the door of the security room and was reaching out to turn the knob. She looked down at her hand, hardly believing it was her own, but then she heard the door click open and felt him turn to look at her.

"Your Majesty?" he said, standing up out of his chair to look as business-like as possible.

"Good evening, Lionel," Clarisse replied, suddenly blushing. She struggled to find words. "I trust all is well this evening?"

"Yes, Your Majesty, of course."

They stood in awkward silence for a moment. Lionel was still standing straight as if someone had shoved a poker up his ass, and Clarisse's eyes shifted nervously around the room. Then she spoke.

"So… what are you doing?" She rolled her eyes immediately after she spoke—really, could she have said anything more stupid?

Lionel didn't seem to notice, saying, "I was just watching the monitors like Joseph told me to, Your Majesty."

The mention of her husband reminded Clarisse why she had come in the first place—not that she would speak of it. "Ah yes, Joseph. Lionel, tell me something: has he contacted you at all about his business in Spain?"

"No, Your Majesty, he has not. Have you heard from him?"

"No."

They stood for a few more moments, Clarisse's eyes downcast, Lionel studying her intently.

"Do you miss him, Your Majesty?"

"Yes." She looked up at him. "Yes, I miss him. Actually," she chuckled mirthlessly, "I miss men in general."

Lionel looked confused. "Men, Your Majesty?"

"Yes, Lionel, men." Clarisse straightened her posture and her jacket as if preparing to give a speech. "I miss men. I miss being held at night; I miss good-morning kisses; I miss cuddling. Yes, I miss men."

Lionel didn't know what to say. "I'm… erm… sorry, Your Majesty."

"Oh, but there's no need to be sorry, Lionel!" Clarisse suddenly exclaimed, stepping forward towards him. "You see, Lionel," she said, caressing his name with her voice, "you can remedy the situation."

"Re—remedy the situation, Your Majesty?" he choked, eyes widening.

"Yes, Lionel, remedy." Clarisse's voice had dropped an octave and she eyed him seductively. "Care to… ahm… cure me?" She approached him slowly but surely, feeling his eyes sweep up and down her body as she did so. "I want to be cured, Lionel," she whispered huskily, sliding her hands up and down his chest.

"Let me be your doctor, then," he said, his loud voice completely disturbing the mood. Then he crushed his lips to hers.

Clarisse was somewhat unpleasantly surprised. This was not the firm, hard kiss that Joseph was so good at; this was rather painfully intense, actually. And his lips were too wet—it felt like he was slobbering over her like a dog.

But then he slipped her the tongue.

Clarisse moaned, not out of satisfaction. He was like an anteater or something, shoving his tongue down her throat. She pulled away disgustedly, tasting a slightly fishy flavor that had not been in her mouth previously. She cleared her throat. "Lionel, ahem, perhaps you'd prefer…" But words failed her, so she took one of his hands and put it on her waist, the other on her breast. She felt slightly more comfortable now that the tonsil hockey game was over.

But then he squeezed.

"Lionel!" she gasped, shoving him away from her. "What—how—why—oh, god!"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I just couldn't resist!" he sputtered, wringing his hands together. "They're just so… squeezable…"

Clarisse nearly choked after that comment. "Oh, my god."

Lionel stammered out a few more words, but Clarisse paid no attention to him. Obviously she'd have to be cured by some other Love Doctor.

Right on time, her Love Doctor appeared. Finally someone with more experience, someone more suave, more manly, who looked better in black! Clarisse turned around and immediately pulled his head down to hers for a passionate, fiery kiss. She moaned—he certainly knew how to use HIS tongue! And his hands, too. Oh, god, was she getting cured!

"Mmm… let's continue this somewhere else, shall we?" she said in her best bedroom voice.

"Let's," Shades said. So off they went.

THE END

Oh god that was fun to write :D


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